


Written in Pages

by wucina



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/F, Hormone Replacement Tomes, Non-Binary Lesbian Character, Trans Female Character, background chrom/miriel, lucina? who's lucina idk any lucina, there's this masked nb lesbian over here named marth tho i like them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25369378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wucina/pseuds/wucina
Summary: She’s quite the odd one, someone who absolutely would tower over them if they were standing up, but everything else about her, from the quiet, high-pitched voice, to the oversized robes she hides in contrasting with her tiny little shoulder bag, to the very way she sits, trying to take up as little space as she can manage, gives the aura of a girl much tinier than her physical mass implies, like a terrified little bird swept within the body of a bear.They suppose she can have that anxiety in peace, at least. They take a heavy step in the opposite direction to leave—[snap]“Gah!” The girl is loudly shocked, as Marth forgot to pay attention to their surroundings, stepping on a tree branch lying on the ground. “W-who goes there!? I can fight back, you know!”••••••••••••••••••••While trying to find a woman of mystery, unknown to their future, the masked prince stumbles upon her deepest secret.
Relationships: My Unit | Reflet | Robin/Masked Marth (Fire Emblem Awakening)
Kudos: 28
Collections: Fire Emblem Trans Week 2020!





	Written in Pages

**Author's Note:**

> (set after the battle at arena ferox, but before the attempted assassination of emmeryn)
> 
> (written fashionably late for FE Trans Week, day 1: acceptance/realization)

Sticking to the shadows of the forest so as to not be seen, Marth glances into the camps of the Shepherds. The area has the aura of warmth, good soldiers engaging in friendly sparring on one end, quietly exchanging stories over cozy campfires on another, and cooking and cleaning all between, a place for anyone to find a way to enjoy the night.

It’s strange to look at, they must admit. None of this is a sight they’re particularly used to, as even the most optimistic towns from their future were still quiet and tired. Nor was the grass ever this green, so comfortable looking to lay on while being surrounded by such genuine smiles.

It must be pleasant to be someone who could have the opportunity to join them.

Friendly contact with another human being would be nice.

…

Still. Work to be done, unfortunately, which means more intel to discover about this timeframe. There’s a lot of things that still confuse them, not least of which can be traced back to a woman who, given her seemingly enormous importance in this army, might as well have not existed in the books of history.

_Robin._ It’s confusing, the dead silence surrounding her. Surely, the grandmaster tactician of the Shepherds would be meaningful enough to warrant at least a few offhand comments, yet at no point in their childhood can they recall anyone having mentioned her once. Marth can recall people discussing _a_ tactician in the army, but to their understanding, it was never a female one, instead being described as this burly, towering fellow with brawn matching his brains, a threatening aura hiding underneath his quiet hood, which, comparing and contrasting to the shivering, abrasive woman with no voice control they hear about in these camps, clearly doesn’t fit the mark.

What happened to her in their past, then? Does this have any relation to the events they need to stop? It would track that if she had betrayed them at some point, then they would still speak of her in _some_ fashion, would they not? It’s as if she was a ghost, a liminal being who is simultaneously the most important person on the planet, yet might as well not exist.

A thought process that isn’t being helped by her not being anywhere in the camp, not even hidden in the silhouettes of the tents. Strange.

Perhaps they should look through the kitchen area again—

“You absolutely cannot tell anyone about this, okay?”

Erm. Did they just hear someone from within the forest?

“You’re saying it as if this is something I’d be bragging about to people.”

Hm, multiple persons, in fact. What on earth are two people doing conversing in a forest?

The first voice makes a confusing, high-pitched squeak. “I-is it?”

“No, no it’s not.” The second one sighs, with an oddly familiar tone. “Don’t worry so much, alright? Your secret’s safe here.”

Secret? What secret? Did Marth just stumble into some double agent against the Shepherds? What on earth did they just discover—

“T-thank you, Chrom.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s for a good friend.”

Marth quickly moves into the forest. They can beat themselves up over not recognizing the literal Prince of Ylisse’s voice later, because right now, if they were to take a guess…

“Um.” Indeed, it seems the squeaky little voice belonged to the very tactician they were looking for. “Y-you can stop petting me now.”

“Oh. Uh, right.”

So, as best as Marth can tell, there is the unknown tactician of mystery, and Chrom, out in the woods where nobody is supposed to see them, as this woman has her back pressed up against a tree sitting on the ground, and there is extremely personal contact going on as they both tell each other to guard their important secrets that nobody else is allowed to know.

They don’t exactly know what the feeling of walking into one’s parents making love is like, but they’re pretty confident it feels like this.

“I know you’ll need some private time, and all.” Thank the gods, if Chrom had done anything they’d rather not imagine, he had clearly already done it. “Make sure you head back soon, alright?”

“O-okay.”

The prince leaves, and for a while, the girl simply sits frozen, giving Marth some time to let the nausea leave their body. They assume she has a reason for doing this at first ( _reasons I would prefer to not fully know_ , they repeat to themself), but she’s entirely clothed, and she seems like she’s making deep breaths out of a need to avoid a panic attack more than anything.

She’s quite the odd one, someone who absolutely would tower over them if they were standing up, but everything else about her, from the quiet, high-pitched voice, to the oversized robes she hides in contrasting with her tiny little shoulder bag, to the very way she sits, trying to take up as little space as she can manage, gives the aura of a girl much tinier than her physical mass implies, like a terrified little bird swept within the body of a bear.

They suppose she can have that anxiety in peace, at least. They take a heavy step in the opposite direction to leave—

**_[snap]_ **

“Gah!” The girl is loudly shocked, as Marth forgot to pay attention to their surroundings, stepping on a tree branch lying on the ground. “W-who goes there!? I can fight back, you know!”

Sigh. Of all the times they accidentally meddle with a member of the Shepherds, this affair of hers would be the worst possible time to do so.

They need to absolutely go before they make this more miserable. Taking another step—

**_[SNAAAAAAP]_ **

Oh for gods’ sake Marth can you look at the ground for ONE SECOND.

“I-I can do magic! Honest!” She’s quite terrible at sounding threatening, they must say. “G-go away! I’m going to hurt you if you d-don’t!”

Ugh. They could pass their stepping off as a coincidence before, but now the poor girl is going to be stay put for the rest of the night out of her own paranoia, at this rate.

“Guh, guh, where the hell did I put that lightning tome…”

Also, might actually start a natural disaster if she starts shooting something that causes flames into the shadows. Good job, Marth, congratulations on singlehandedly creating a fire hazard when the goal was to interact as little as possible.

They absolutely have to approach her, don’t they.

“I am no enemy.” Well, at least they aren’t having to talk with their father about this. Marth walks slowly, hands in the air so as to not imply hostility.

“Um um um.” The girl squints, still visibly shaking, with her head tilted. “Y-you’re the swordsman from Arena Ferox?”

“Correct–Marth, to be precise.” A name that they picked on the spot, but they will admit sounds pleasant on their tongue. “I’m simply traveling through the area when I heard someone over here. I apologize if I had startled you.”

“I-I see.” She still looks on with suspicion, but if nothing else, she stopped looking for her offensive tomes, so that counts for something. “Um, how much did you hear?”

“I heard something about personal secrets… and petting.” That’s vague enough, surely.

“Oh.” Nevermind, she’s now just horrified instead of threatened, whoops. “That’s. Um. Um um um.”

“Well, I do not think I fully understand the context, though—”

“PLEASE DON’T TELL ANYBODY!” Aaaand now she’s in the bargaining stage, fantastic. “Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!”

Do they really care that much to barge into such a thing, though?

Well, okay, they _do_ care a little bit, but that’s mostly on account of the part where Chrom breaks his bones sometime in the next month and they don’t know why, not because this girl did anything wrong. Last they recall, the woman who becomes his wife began talking with him well into the Plegian War, and the war hasn’t even begun yet, so the idea of being so offended about what he does in his spare time sounds counterproductive to the no-meddling rule they ought to be following.

They would probably need to calm this girl down, before they try to explain that they don’t mind.

Erm, does Marth know how to do that? This seems to require social knowledge that Marth has never had before, having mostly spent their past five or so years only occasionally speaking in short bursts. They should figure out soon, because they’re fairly certain she’s hyperventilating.

Uh.

Petting?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again please don’t hurt m—”

Marth brushes their fingertips past her bangs and into her hair, with all the subtlety of a horse carriage crashing into an orphanage, and within what feels like milliseconds, the girl’s muscles cease to tense and her eyes snap shut, as if she had a curse that shut her entire mind down the moment this happens to her.

No wonder Chrom had been doing this before. They’re sure this is not some universal trait, but it’s clear as day that this is an effective way to calm her nerves without require much effort. They’re fairly certain that if they just kept on with this, she might legitimately fall asleep, but they need to defuse this as quickly as they can before someone from camp starts looking for her.

“Now.” They pull their hand away, as the girl’s face grows confused, and they smile gently to try and calm her down. “I believe we started off on the wrong foot?”

“Ehhhh?” The girl slowly opens her eyes, needing to blink a few times before she can come back to reality. “Oh! Um. Y-yeah, that’s fair.”

“I apologize for having startled you.” Marth takes a kneeling bow, in the hopes that maybe they can continue to pass themself off as an eccentric princely knight-type. “I hope I have not caused too much long-term distress.”

“O-oh, no, you’re fine.” The girl hides in her robe, an easy task with how large it is. “Chrom says I should t-trust people I meet more often anyways.”

“Does he, now.” They sit further down next to her. “I suppose with the way he’s spoken of, that would make sense.”

“Y-yeah, he’s really good.” Her hands travel to her own hair, twirling it around her fingers out of some natural instinct. “I was just some person with no memories when he found me on the ground, and he was my friend right away, so it feels a bit rude to not, um, pay it forward, somehow.”

Marth smiles genuinely, having never been able to see their father much. He really is as kind as everyone told them he was, wasn’t he.

“He’s even nice to me when I told him…”

The girl plays faster with her hair.

“W-well, um, that part shouldn’t be discussed without consequences, really.”

“ _That part_?”

“Yes, that p–wait, I said that out loud?” Lords have mercy on her, she’s tensing up again. “Oh jeez Robin you’re not supposed to be vocalizing every word you sayyyyy—”

“You are also saying that out loud.” Marth is not much better with that, they need to admit.

“Gah, you’re right!” Oh good, now she’s entered some kind of feedback loop of perpetual anxiety. “Guuuuuh, I’m just making this worse for myself, aren’t I?”

They’re beginning to realize that, if they don’t deal with this now, the sheer fear this woman will have of someone knowing her secrets might haunt her forever. Well, at least they can get some information from it, and they do suppose it would be best to confront this scenario now, than in the future, when they’ll just assume their father is cheating with her or what-have-you.

“I am still not quite sure what _this_ might be, if I’ll be frank.” They tilt their head, since that seems to be a kind of body language she knows. “I was only passing by for the last few moments.”

Robin looks around, like she’s scared someone else might walk by at any moment, before she shifts closer.

“Y-you won’t… make fun of me, will you?”

“Of course not.”

She quickly turns around, shuffling in her bag for reasons that aren’t entirely apparent to Marth. What would an affair have to do with anything in a tactician’s pouch? Does he send her love letters, or some absurd thing?

It’s not until she turns back around, with a small book in hand entitled _Hormone Replacement Tome_ , that they start to consider how this might not be about that.

“I-I don’t know how he does it, b-but he’s been getting these for me.” Even though she’s still so frightened, she looks at it with such a sense of glee that her shock melts away. “H-he hasn’t even made fun of me for it.”

“Made fun of? What for?”

“D-do you not know what hormones are?”

Marth shakes their head. It sounds like something their mother would mention, between concocting new potions, but it’s not something they’d have a genuine definition for.

“Okay, um, well Chrom’s the one who told me and all and he didn’t do it all that good.” She looks to the ground, trying to choose her words carefully. “B-but the way he talked about it, it’s like… girls and boys usually have different kinds of hormones. Or like, um, the same kind? But they have different amounts usually, except for when they don’t? I’m usually able to get these sort of complicated thing but he really did not word this intelligently in the slightest but, uh, well.”

Marth catches wind of something else in the girl’s pouch in the form of a razor, and a tiny pocket mirror beside it.

“I-if the hormones are different, um, in that sense, then… I need to change them, if they’re like a b-boy’s.”

And what seems like a small hint of makeup, but none of which seems functioning. Lipstick that’s been cracked off, a vial of nail polish that lines the inside of the pouch from spills, and what they think is a tin of blush completely dented through, like they’ve all been broken in fits of rage.

“B-because, because I d-don’t want to be a boy.”

As if whoever was using them couldn’t stand how they didn’t know how to use any of it properly.

As if…

“I just… I just want to be a girl.”

_Ah._

They misjudged this whole thing, didn’t they. It’s a good thing they didn’t cower out, especially with something this personal, because they know themself well enough, and if Chrom had been married by now, they would have been extremely accusatory. Thank goodness it didn’t get to that point.

Still, this sounds familiar. They feel as if their sibling had wanted something just like this, but for one reason or another they never could. Not only that, but the way she had described it made it sound as if this could simply change many things. It would take Marth a very long time to figure out why it is that they–the masked hero who gets oddly happy when someone refers to their androgyny, and subsequently gets oddly nauseous when they hear the name their father had originally given them–would be interested in this otherwise, so their sibling is what they have opted to attach this feeling to.

“Could I see it?”

“Wh—” The tactician seems to have shocked her own tears out with confusion. “W-why do you want to see it?”

“This magic you speak of, I’ve never even considered that it could exist.” They smile gently, one that’s genuinely for themself more than anything. “It would be nice, I think.”

“I. Um. Well.” She looks as if she had never considered someone asking such a thing, which actually seems to have succeeded in snapping her out of a haze. “I guess? I could do that? There’s nothing stopping me?”

As carefully as she can, the girl holds a book out, opening it up to the front pages, as she hovers her other hand over the words, slowly mimicking a come-hither motion to activate it. At first, the process seems like it’s barely doing anything at all, the ink in the paper very slowly forming a mist of white and green mixed together as it floats in the air. Suddenly, with a flick of her wrist, the mist holds around her arm, her motions having somehow magnetized it to her, and it makes its way up the arm, before, with instant acceleration, it all begins to force itself through her jaw with no effort.

It seems like this would be an uncomfortable feeling ( _and_ , they note quietly, _it’s not exactly like she has the most pleased expression doing it_ ), but she holds through all the same, keeping a consistent stream until the mist has all finally dissipated, and all that’s left is the mesmerizing sight of a faint, fading glow eminating from her neck.

“Blegh, too minty.” She scrapes her tongue on her teeth, with some of the magic having apparently caught in her mouth. “Really need to bring sweets next time.”

Marth, not even realizing how much the beautiful sight had lowered their guard enough to feel emotional, starts giggling, with no attempt to lower their voice’s pitch.

“H-hey!” She lets out a tiny huff. “You said you wouldn’t make fun!”

“Oh, erm, I’m not making fun.” _Ahem._ Must remain stoic, Marth. “This is just all so endearing to me.”

“I-it is?”

“Of course.” A smile still stubbornly holds on, betraying their wants, though they’d be lying if they said they cared right now. “Something as gorgeous as this… I can’t see why anyone would be against it.”

“O-oh.” The girl stammers, her face turning red and her eyes welting up. “Okay, um. I’m not very good at figuring out when this is a good thing to do or not, but.”

She wiggles in some type of means of motivating herself, before stuffing her face in her robe. They’re not entirely sure, but they think, beneath all the fabric, they heard as a squeak:

“C-can I hug you?”

Marth, perhaps a bit too quickly for their own good, complies, putting her head to their chest, stroking her hair gently.

“Thank you.” She speaks softly, but with a spike of happiness in her voice, her body finally being allowed to feel safety. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

They likely failed in their task to get out before anyone else sees them. That is probably fine, they think. They can leave later, once this girl has long since slept, and quite frankly, perhaps they shouldn’t care if people see. Perhaps who this girl wants to be isn’t of their concern. Perhaps it’s an ignorant thought, one that isn’t compatible with the world around them, but they’ve already planned to change the world in one way, so they see no reason not to change it in another.

And, glancing one more time at the tome, catching the name of the author’s pen name, maybe those who came along with them had the same idea.

_Laurent B. Eksalte_. Hmph. Never was known for his subtlety, was he?

**Author's Note:**

> me: ok i can make the HRT adjacent into literally anything i want, time to be creative!  
> me:  
> me:  
> me: what if sublingual administration, but from the other side,


End file.
